


The Heart Has Many Keys

by Ozymanreis



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [57]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Lazy Mornings, Love Polygon, Love Triangles, M/M, Morning Routines, Multi, Other, Polyamory, Triangle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3204959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozymanreis/pseuds/Ozymanreis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moran, vis-à-vis his military background, was a morning person. Sherlock, obstinate insomniac, was still awake. Night-owl-Jim, sleeping until noon, was always the one who made them wait.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heart Has Many Keys

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 90: Triangle  
> Not so much a three-way poly-relationship so much as a V-shape. But they all do sleep in the same bed, so you know...

"Let myself in." Sherlock announces, stepping awkwardly into the foyer. Whipping off his scarf, hanging it with his coat on a hook beside the door, he takes a deep breath before moving forward, "Hope that was alright."

"It's why you have a key." Sebastian says casually, newspaper perching in his hand, not doing so much as shrugging to break his concentration. He's sitting on the sofa, barely touched mug of coffee steaming away on the short table. Sensing his discomfort, he adds, "There's coffee in the Keurig, or tea, if you want." Even if the detective already knew, had been over several times, the older man knew it was all still new to him. 

 _All_ of it.

Tea. Yes. It's comforting, sort of. Gives Sherlock something to do while he waits, shuffling over to the kitchen. He wonders if he'll ever get over the urge to hide from the large, scarred, ex-soldier. Starting the little machine for hot water, setting a cup under the spout, _probably not_. 

Sebastian and Sherlock are okay with each other, even if they're both acutely aware the disgraced colonel could kill him at any moment. But for now, the detective is useful to him, so he's safe.

They don't dislike each other, nor do they have any reason to. But they see the world differently on a fundamental level: Sebastian values utility, Sherlock values knowledge for the sake of knowledge. If they had much choice in the matter, they wouldn't choose to share Sunday tea. Yet, when it's quiet, as Sebastian _does_ enjoy a relaxed silence every now and then, it's not so bad.

Their middle ground, however, is Jim, who believes in endless knowledge for the sake of utility, and just the perfect amount of whimsy. And an affinity for sleeping in, "Jim still asleep?" Sherlock asks, walking back into the living room, steeping tea in hand. 

"As usual." Sebastian replies, still not looking up as Sherlock took the armchair across from him. 

Moran, vis-à-vis his military background, was a morning person. Sherlock, obstinate insomniac, was _still_ awake. Night-owl-Jim, sleeping until noon, was always the one who made them wait. 

A telltale rush of water from the adjacent room meant that Jim had at least slung his zombie-like self out of bed and into the shower. "Twenty minutes." Sebastian murmured, turning the page, then making a small "ah-ha!" of triumph, but did not elaborate.

In a general sense, Sherlock had come a little late to the party. Jim and Sebastian had met through the network around five years ago, after the "firing" of the former's bodyguard. Enter ex-colonel Moran, fresh off his dishonorable discharge, a crack shot, and looking for trouble. He spoke a formidable amount of languages, a world of experience, terse, tenacious, and had written books on guns and ammunition — seemed absolutely perfect for Jim, at least at the time. 

But then consulting criminal met, and became subsequently enamored with, the consulting detective. Both fell in love with the other's genius and methods. However, and this had been made _very_ clear, that didn't mean that Jim had any less "love" or need for Sebastian. His obsession with Sherlock was a separate feeling entirely, and longed to be free to pursue it.

Sebastian, not wanting to deprive Jim of _anything_ he could possibly want, was surprisingly okay with this, so long as he wasn't "replaced." Luckily, in this somewhat unconventional arrangement, no one would ever lose their niche — Sherlock had his limits as well. 

"Morning, boys." Jim purrs, emerging from the bathroom in nothing but his black pants, still drying out his hair lazily with a towel. He tosses it over the balcony railing to air out, blinking out into the rarely-sunny day. 

"Afternoon." Moran corrects, cueing Jim's daily huff of indignation.

"Sorry, I just get so busy _running the world_." He growls, stalking over to Seb, tapping on the thin sheets of paper, "And I believe I'm owed a _greeting_ , regardless."

Sebastian holds up a finger, warning Jim to give him a moment. Moriarty just sighs, a small pout crossing his lips — secondary to a freaking _newspaper_. The sniper's eyes speed through whatever paragraph he was on, finishing up, then lowered it just enough for a quick peck.

"Good morning, _Sebastian._ " Jim grumbles. His partner just hums in acknowledgement. Intelligent man, admired and adored Jim to _death_ , but stoic. Besides, after five, six years together, he didn't feel the need to bother with the cutesy stuff.

The Irishman is only upset it for a moment, remembering that he doesn't need to bother with the rugged blond. Smirking to himself, he turns to meet Sherlock's eyes, "Good morning, Sherlock." He says, swaying over to him, placing his hands on the taller man's shoulders, swinging his legs over his lap.

"More like my _evening_ , Jim." They kiss briefly, but Jim keeps it chaste, resting his head against the detective's lapel — Sherlock had made it quite clear his stake in this relationship was almost strictly intellectual. The _physical_ was limited only to Seb, which absolutely _no one_ minded. Though on occasion, Sherlock would sleep over and Jim got to be in the middle of cuddling. 

He was a happy, happy man. 


End file.
